


Forgiven

by LoLecter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Continuation of Defiled, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Fix-It, Forgiveness, Guilt, Happy Ending, Homosexuality, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Story based on an other fanfiction, by damesansmerci, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoLecter/pseuds/LoLecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You won't understand anything unless you read this fic first: http://archiveofourown.org/works/902129<br/>(Defiled by damesansmerci)<br/>In it John is forced to rape Sherlock by Moriarty and this is basically the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Defiled](https://archiveofourown.org/works/902129) by [damesansmerci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damesansmerci/pseuds/damesansmerci). 



> Sorry in advance I am not as great of a writer as the person who wrote the fic on which this is based. I wrote it more for myself than anyone else in any case, but if some people can enjoy it too great. :)  
> Thank you damesansmerci(http://archiveofourown.org/users/damesansmerci/pseuds/damesansmerci) for letting me write the continuation of your story. I was feeling so bad after reading it I just had to write a fix-it oneshot. 
> 
> Again if you have not read it you won't understand what I wrote really so go read it: http://archiveofourown.org/works/902129

When John Watson woke up in the hospital he was alone. Once the confusion of remembering how and why he was there passed he had to admit that he was not surprised to be alone. For all everyone probably knew he was a monster who had raped his best friend. He had tried to mouth how sorry he was, but Sherlock had firmly refused to open his eyes and look at him. Finally he had been forced to leave before Moran came in to kill or rape Sherlock again. Moriarty had congratulated him as he was being tied down and put in the back of a car.  
“That was a marvelous performance Johny. Did you enjoy it? I bet you did you filthy boy.”  
John had almost thrown up in his mouth. No, he had certainly not enjoyed it and the image of Sherlock so trusting one minute and so broken the next all because of him would haunt him for the rest of his days. He had had no idea how long the car rode so lost in his thought and self disgust that he was, but at some point they had arrived to their destination and a chiffon was put on his mouth and nose, rendering him unconscious. Probably chloroform.

When he had woken up he was in a dark little cell, lying on an army bed. He was hungry and thirsty, sign that he had been unconscious for a while, but he didn’t try to get anything by knocking on the door. He had a feeling that whatever food he would have ate would come out the moment he remembered what he had done. Then he had started to wonder. Why had Moriarty kept him? Why not kill him instead? Maybe because he knew that Sherlock would suspect something the moment he saw his body and deduced who had killed him. Or maybe Moriarty could have simply told Sherlock he had killed him for him after learning what he had done. For that to be credible he would have had to wait a little while before killing him. Moriarty had always wanted to get close to Sherlock and that could definitely have done it. If the man wasn’t a complete psychopath he would have suspected he was in love with him. He probably was in some very twisted way. In any way he had wanted to make Sherlock believe that John had never really liked him in the end.

It had been a mistake to trust him. He was like all the rest. He was ordinary. Moriarty was not. He could trust him. Would Sherlock have fell for this blatant manipulation? Before, he would have said no. The detective was too smart for that. After what he had done to him however he was not so sure. As much as Sherlock liked to pretend he was not human, he was. More than anyone he had ever met. He could be broken and hurt like everyone else and John had done just that. His best friend who trusted him more than anyone in the world... He had used that trust and betrayed him in the worst way. What had broken his heart even more was that this had been Sherlock first time. He had never been with anyone and even more obvious from the way he had reacted to John kissing him he would have willingly let John be his first in the right circumstance.

Alone in his cell john had sobbed thinking about all of this, incapable of controlling himself. No doubt Moriarty had been happy knowing he had broken John as surely as he had broken Sherlock. Not that it mattered anyway, he had thought back then. In his mind Moriarty would probably kill him soon enough.

At some point someone had came in to give him some food and water. After three days of starving himself he had cave in and took it. After that he had lost all notion of time so he could not say if it was a day or a week later that he heard the sound of men fighting outside, gun shots, order given by what sounded like a swat team and finally someone opening his door to find him sat on the ground half dead from dehydration. He remembered only vaguely people taking him outside to an ambulance and then something that had sounded like Sherlock voice begging to see him. That had surely been a hallucination. He had barely slept, ate or drank for god knows how long (by his own fault, but still). He had been hearing things. There were no logical reasons Sherlock would have wanted to see him again except maybe to hit him. He would have deserved it. He would have deserved much worse. 

Who then had saved him? He was in the hospital after all so someone had had to notice his disappearance. Mycroft? Greg? He was interrupted in his thought by the man himself entering the room.  
“Hi John! Glad to see you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”  
The inspector was giving him a little smile and looked friendly enough. So he didn’t know. When he thought about it, it was unlikely that Sherlock would have told anyone. The only one who knew was probably Mycroft and only because Sherlock could not hide anything from him.  
“Great considering” he lied. After all, physically he was fine. It was only mentally that he was broken, but he had no right to complain. He was the aggressor. Sherlock had been the victim in all of this. It didn’t matter that he had not had a choice. For Sherlock it had been the same result as if he had decided to rape him himself.

“You look like shit” said Greg, trying to look like he was joking, but failing miserably.  
“How long since I arrived to the hospital?”  
“Two days”  
“And do you know how long I was... gone? I don’t remember very well.”  
“Twelve days.”  
Only twelve days... It had felt longer than that. He was dying to ask about Sherlock, but he knew he had no right so he asked instead:  
“Were you the one that found me?”  
“No, it was Mycroft and Sherlock.”  
John heart stopped in his chest. Sherlock had helped to save him?  
“Sherlock has not left the hospital since you arrived.”  
“Where is he?” he dared to ask, a big lump in his throat making it difficult to talk.

 

“Probably annoying your nurse or doctor again, but otherwise he always stayed on a chair just outside your room. Every time I came at least. I don’t know why he didn’t want to come in. He pretended he was fine outside, but it was obvious he was worried sick about you. Still is.”

John had a couple of idea about why Sherlock had stayed out of the room. Being worried for a friend that he had once trusted and liked was one thing, but wanting to see him again was another. Maybe he couldn’t dare to look at him anymore. Or even be in the same room as him. He could not blame him really. It was already a lot that he had deemed him worthy of being saved and then stayed at the hospital until he was sure he was alright. It was a lot more than he would have ever expected. Greg noticed his mood and looked uncomfortable.

“Right. Well. I’m gonna leave you alone now. You look like you need some rest.”  
“Thank you for coming Greg. It means a lot.”  
“Don’t worry about it. If you need anything just call me.”  
John nodded and watched the detective get out of the room. He heard him stop just outside or his room and a deep voice he knew way too well ask him something. With the door closed he could not determine what it was, but he would have bet his life away that it was Sherlock.

The two men exchanged a couple of words and it was silence again. Would Sherlock dare to come in? Would he just leave now that he knew he was alright? His question was answered quickly by a shy consultive detective coming into the room. Was he afraid of him? God if it was the case it was even worse than he had imagined. He looked more uncomfortable than afraid however if he was being honest. From the foot of the bed Sherlock looked at him and John could feel that it was difficult, but he was determined to do it. What was it he had heard about victims often wanting to confront their aggressor? He didn’t remember. The other man voice was distant and more solemn than he would have expected when he said:  
“John”

*** 

_Fourteen days sooner_

The rape on his own would have been horrible enough except that it was not the end of his suffering. After it he refused to open his eyes, trying really hard not to cry, scream, sob, hit.... He didn’t know what really, but he knew he wanted to do something and he could not. He would not break down in front of John Watson, his friend and rapist. He only allowed himself to move after he heard him leave. Sherlock had never felt so confused in his life. His brain just could not register what had happened. John Watson. His brave, loyal and good John Watson had raped him without saying a word to him and left him without any explanation.

He didn’t even know John saw him in that way. He was “not gay!” as he often said to people assuming they were a couple. Well, apparently he liked man enough to be alright with fucking them. Angry, hurt and still very confused he finally got up to take a shower. He washed himself carefully, making sure to erase every traces of John on his body. John had checked him for anal tearing in the end. He had not been too far gone to not notice it. What sort of rapist did that? John apparently. Always a doctor even after he had just took his best friend virginity by force.

He had straight out admitted that he had never had sex before. He was hoping at the time that it would make John stop. It had not and instead he found he was somehow even more hurt by the fact that John had known and not cared. He felt so betrayed he wanted to scream. Why did it have to be John? Being raped by a stranger he could have dealt with. John would have taken care of him after, threatened to kill the man himself and in the end he would have been there for him until the whole experience became nothing, but a bad memory. What had happened however... He could never in a million years have imagined this happening.

Sherlock did not allow himself to cry until at least eight hours after the event. And even then all that he could let out were silent tears while he laid on his bed feeling disgusted with himself. He could have just said no. He could have stopped John. He could have fought. Why had he not? Because he had trusted John Watson not to hurt him, that was why. He had made the mistake of trusting another human and that person had used his trust to break him. Even once he had realized John was going to do it whether he agreed or not he had not had the strength to stop him. He was confused, paralyzed and somehow it all didn’t feel real.

Later that night he thought that maybe it had been something he had done. John was a good person. He would never have hurt Sherlock that way unless he deserved it. Maybe it had been the forearm in the fridge? Or his last experiment with a dead rat on the kitchen table? He realized he was being stupid at that last thought. John would never have raped him for a forearm or a dead rat. He tried again and again to make sense of it, but by the end of the night things made even less sense and he felt like he was going crazy.

He decided then that he would not let what had happened affect him anymore. He had made the mistake of getting attached and trusting someone and he had paid the price for it. He would simply not make that mistake again. He considered erasing the memory from his mind palace, but he doubted that a moment linked with so many emotions could be deleted. It was probably a good thing. It would serve him as a reminder that he could not trust anyone and what had happened with John Watson was just another example of that. It didn’t matter that he had been a little in love with the man. It didn’t matter that he would have happily had sex with him if only he had not been forced. No. None of it mattered because John had not been able to wait and had taken what he wanted without caring what Sherlock did or did not want. It would serve him as a reminder to never allow himself to love again.

Even if what had happened contradicted everything he thought he knew about John it didn’t contradict with what he knew about people in general. It had been his fault for forgetting that.

The next days were spent in a strange haze of trying not to think about what had happened and resisting the temptation to take drugs to forget. Finally after two days Mrs Hudson came up to see what he was up to. She had been worried by the lack of noise. Never happy that woman. Too much noise, not enough...  He told her that in a very rude way and almost threw something at her when she asked where John was. The event however made him realize that it had been two days and John had still not came back.

That he would have left Sherlock after raping him was not something unexpected. He surely didn’t plan to live with him anymore and Sherlock would have probably kicked him out himself if he had tried to come back like nothing had happened, but John had left without any of his things. He went to his room to verify this fact and saw that everything was there. He had not even taken his toothbrush with him. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to get worried. He decided to text him that if he wanted to come take his things he should give him a time so that Sherlock could be out of the house.

It was really just an excuse to see if he was alright so when twelve hours later he still had no answer he sent:  
 _“Are you alive?”_  
Still no answer. He texted Harry, Lestrade, Mike and even Molly asking if they had seen the man. No one had seen him.  He was really starting to worry. At eleven when he could not deal with it anymore and he finally texted Mycroft.  
 _“Had a row little brother?”_  
When Sherlock didn’t answer he said he would look for him, sensing that the situation was serious. Thirty minutes later he called to say to him in a somewhat worried tone that there was no sign of John Watson anywhere. Sherlock told him the last time he had seen John and Mycroft went to look at the surveillance tape of that day. Twenty minutes later he was at 221 B with a computer showing Sherlock what he had found.

John was being brought to the flat by a man named Sebastian Moran, known to be one of Moriarty personal hit man, while a black car was waiting outside. They both stayed inside for twenty minutes and then both left again with John looking like he was trying really hard not to cry. Moran was holding a gun to his side to make sure he was not running away, but it didn’t seem necessary. John Watson looked defeated. Mycroft looked at his little brother and saw that something had changed in him too. Somehow he looked both colder and more emotional at the same time like he was trying really hard to keep some emotion inside.

Mycroft had some theories about what could have happened during that twenty minutes, but one of them in particular made him feel horribly angry.  
“Sherlock, what happened when John was inside?”  
Sherlock refused to tell him. He just stayed silent watching the screen, looking even paler than usual.

So Moran had been there the entire time of the rape. Was it possible that.... Sherlock could not finish that thought. The idea was so horrible to contemplate for many reasons and at the same time it explained so much. John had mouthed him the word relax, but had not said it out loud. He had not said a word. Had he been ordered to keep silent? Could they really have forced John to do this to him? His brother voice came to him asking him again what had happened, more insistent this time. He said something about microphones in the flat that he didn’t use unless absolutely necessary, but would use to learn more about John kidnapping. In other words he would know even if Sherlock didn’t tell him.

Well then if he really wanted to know.  
“John forced me to have sex with him.” He said in a tone that he tried to make detached. Mycroft looked like he was both furious and really sad. He stopped himself from saying anything like “sorry” knowing his brother would not appreciate his pity. All he said was:  
“You do realize, little brother, that he was forced to do it? John Watson would never do such a thing unless coerced to.”  
“Yes, Mycroft. I realize that now, thank you.” He spited, angry.  
Meaning for three days he had thought that John had done this of his own free will, simply because he wanted to. Mycroft heart broke for his brother. At the same time he realized that Moriarty must have had a camera in the flat to enjoy the show. He would have to get Sherlock out of here and find it.

He proposed to Sherlock to come to his house until they found John under the pretense that they could both stay there and Sherlock would be able to access all he needed to help him find John. His brother accepted, only preoccupied with finding John.

Two days later Mycroft came to Sherlock and told him about the camera he had found. Sherlock looked displeased, but not very surprised.

“There is something else Sherlock. I listened to the microphones I had installed in your and Mrs Hudson’s flat. From what I heard I can safely deduce that John was given a choice. It was either him who raped you or Sebastian Moran. I believe he chose what he considered would be the best option for you.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything and his brother left without a word, leaving him to digest what he had just learned. So John had sacrificed himself to save Sherlock the pain of being raped by Sebastian Moran. There was no doubt that the killer would have been a lot less gentle and he would have ended up with anal tearing and a lot of bruises. At least John had been somewhat gentle. Had John even wanted to have sex with him before all of this or had he found the idea disgusting, but still forced himself to do it?  John “Not gay” Watson had never shown any signs that he was attracted to him before so it was safe to say that it had not been a pleasant experience for him either. Him who didn’t even like men, and Sherlock even less, had been forced to have sex with him just to save him the humiliation of being raped by one of Moriarty’s men. 

The guilt he felt doubled. If only he had realized that something was not right that day he might have done something to help John with the situation. Or if he had realized how strange his behavior had been after instead of being angry with him he could have realized that he was missing a lot sooner. They could have found him already.

He was going to save John and then he would do everything to be forgiven. He would try the best he could to save their friendship because he could hardly imagine his life without him, but if John decided things were too weird between them to continue living together he would not object. He would even leave him completely alone if he asked for it.  He owned him that at least.

_Present_

It had taken six more days to find John and it had felt like the longest six days of his life. When finally they had had him Mycroft had not let him see him immediately. He was in shock and half dead from dehydration. Seeing Sherlock would have only made him too emotional and they needed him to sleep. As angry as he was Sherlock understood and he had waited until John was asleep in his room at the hospital to go in front of him. He spent hours observing the man, noticing how much weight he had lost and how he looked tense even in his sleep.  He had not gone back in the room again after that night. He was not sure if John would have wanted him to be there and frankly he needed some time to deal with how seeing him again had made him feel.

 Even knowing that John had been forced to do it he still felt some of the pain and feeling of betrayal he had felt that day looking at him. He knew it was irrational and stupid to be angry at John, but he could not help it. A little part of him which he couldn’t control still felt betrayed. Thankfully most of his anger was derived against Moriarty, but it didn’t erase what had happened. He had tried to understand what Moriarty motive could have been in forcing John to do what he had done, but he was still not sure he understood. He knew he had somehow broken his plan when he had started to worry about John.

The consulting criminal had not planned on him still caring about his friend. It was obvious that he had been trying to break whatever relationship they had, but wouldn’t it have been easier by letting John stay afterward?  No, because then John would have told him the truth and Sherlock would have eventually believed him. There was also the possibility that there had been no grand master plan other than to make both men suffer and make them weaker.

Moriarty had also probably guessed how Sherlock felt about John and knew that the event would be the worst kind of rejection possible. Knowing that John had been repulsed by the idea of sleeping with him. Knowing that John had had him once, but only because of obligation and would never have him again in other, better, circumstance. It hurt and he could not deny it. He knew he would have to face the man again eventually if he wanted to go back to living with him so he had tried the best he could to bury all of those feelings inside.

After two days at the hospital John had finally woken up and Lestrade had been the one to tell him. Going into the room knowing the man would be awake had been harder than he had planned. It took him a lot of courage to look at John, all those feelings fighting to get out. He had tried to sound the most detached possible. No need to make John feel bad.  
“John”

For the first time he noticed that John looked scared. What was he scared of? Why would he be scared of anything?  
“Sherlock” he answered him, the word sounding like it took enormous effort to get out of his mouth.

“I am sorry, John.” He had to say it. It was important that John knew that. Knew how sorry he felt that he had been forced to do such a thing and then left dying in a cell for twelve days because of Sherlock stupidity. John however to his own confusion, looked very confused.  
“What do you have to be sorry about? I’m the one who...” the rest of the sentence didn’t look like it wanted to get out. He could not even say the word, so repulsed he was by the thought of what had happened. It felt like someone was hitting Sherlock in the chest. He decided to say what he had to say before John had the chance to continue.  
“I am sorry you were forced to have sex with me. I know you didn’t want to and if I had been less stupid and had noticed something was wrong I might have done some...”  
John cut him, looking horrified. Sherlock had a feeling that he had not sounded as detached as he wished. He even had a strong feeling that he in fact sounded very emotional.    
“Sherlock! I. Raped. You. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who should be begging you for forgiveness. In fact I will if you tell me there is even the slightest chance that you will forgive me. I felt so horrible doing it and disgusted with myself afterward. I could not even eat what little food they gave me back in that cell because of how disgusting I felt. To use your trust like that and make your first time... this. God I am so sorry I don’t even have the words.”

John looked like he was about to cry now and this was not good. John should not be crying.  
“But you were forced to do it John. I know it. It was you or Moran and I am very grateful that it was you and not that brute.”  
“I know I was forced, but...”  
“There is no but John” he cut him, sounding more firm this time, he hoped. “It must have been horrible for you too. Being forced to have sex with your male best friend when you are straight and definitely not attracted to me. At least I...”  
He had not planned to tell this to John at all, but the man felt horribly guilty and Sherlock would do anything to reduce his guilt.  
“... and I am not inventing this only to make you feel better nor do I have any expectation of you returning my feelings, but you must know. I am attracted to you John. So it may not have been consensual, but it was surely a lot more horrible for you. Having to sleep with someone you have no attraction to.”  
There, it was out. He had said it. He had not said anything about his feeling because there were not relevant to the situation and would surely only make John feel even guiltier. Sherlock hoped that John didn’t choose this time to become better at deduction and realize the depth of his feeling just by looking at him in that moment. What he saw in John face instead confused him to no end.

John felt so sad for Sherlock in that moment he could have swore he felt his heart physically broke. Sherlock thought... God how could he? He genuinely thought that the disgust that John had “supposedly” felt of sleeping with his male best friend had been worse than what he was feeling at the time. The betrayal, the hurt, the humiliation, the pain... all of this. He considered all of this less important than John feeling disgusted at the idea of sleeping with him. He could barely talk.

“You... you think I found it horrible only because... because you are a man.... Sherlock I.... I am not denying that I found it horrible, but it was not the idea of having sex with you that I found horrible. Or even that you’re a man. I found it horrible because I knew it was your first time and I had wanted to make it so much better for you. I hated that our first time had to be... like this. And I hated the idea of hurting you in that way so much... Using your trust to make you do something you didn’t want to do, particularly that...And all for Moriarty. I just... I love you Sherlock and doing that to you was the most difficult thing I have done in my life.”

Sherlock froze. For a very long thirty second he didn’t say anything and John was starting to get worried when he finally said:  
“You... you... you thought about sleeping with me before? About how our first time would be? You are attracted to me?”  
Sherlock looked like he had just been hit by a meteor. Had he really not known? John had always thought he was horribly obvious.  
“Yes. And I was in love with you. I still am, but I would understand if you were not interested after what happened... I probably don’t deserve to be with you anyway.”  
Again it was silence. John was very close to crying at this stage. The guilt, the shame, the anger, the horror, the rejection that was surely coming and the lost of his best friend. It was all too much.

Sherlock felt something in him explode. John loved him too. John Watson... his John Watson was in love with him. Without thinking he ran to him and kissed him violently on the lips. He felt John freeze for a moment before he started to kiss him back. It was different than the last time. First, because this kiss felt desperate. Like John was trying to say how much he loved him with every movement and Sherlock was saying it back. He tasted wet tears in the kiss and broke it to look at John, who was now holding him so delicately it was like he thought he was made of glass.  
“I am so sorry. So sorry...”  
Sherlock kissed his wet cheek, murmuring:  
“It’s alright John. I forgive you and I am sorry too. For everything.”  
And he felt all the anger he had left leave him. John forced Sherlock to look him in the eyes.  
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”  
“Still, I am sorry.”  
John laughed through his tears. It was not really a happy laugh, but it was better than nothing.  
“You great idiot.”  
 Then they were kissing again. They took their time to explore each other’s mouth this time. Sherlock would have kept on kissing John for the rest of his life if it was possible, but eventually he had to break out for air so he used the opportunity to say:  
“I love you John. I don’t know what I would have done if we had not found you in time. I... I could not...”  
“Shhh! It’s ok. I am here now. I am safe and I love you too. So much. Come here.”

John kissed his forehead and brought him toward him so that he was lying on the bed with him, his head hidden in John’s neck. John caressed his hair with one hand and entwined the other with his. Sherlock breathed the man in and felt something he had not felt often in his life before John Watson. Happiness. Peace. He was home. He was where he was meant to be and nothing would ever separate him from John again. Not even Moriarty. He would make sure of that.

John looked at the man half lying on top of him and felt incredibly lucky. Not only had Sherlock forgiven him, but he loved him too. The guilt of what he had done would never leave him and their sexual life would probably be affected by it for longer than they both wished it. God, their life their selves would be affected by it. They still had to deal with Moriarty and make sure they were both safe from him, but for now none of that mattered.

This beautiful, eccentric, strange and extraordinary man was his. He loved him too and it was the greatest thing in the world. A part of him felt like he didn’t deserve that love, but he ignored it. He could not change the past or what had happened. Only make sure the future was better. He would do everything in his power to make Sherlock forget what had happened. He would give him the first time he had always wanted to give him. He would make it all about him and verify that Sherlock wanted it so much that the genius would certainly be annoyed by the end of it. He could already hear him:  
“Yes, John I am sure I want to. How many times are you still going to ask me?”  
And John would laugh and answer:  
“As many times as necessary.”  
Yes, as many times as necessary to make him understand that never again he would do anything that Sherlock didn’t want him to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if they are some mistakes (I know they are lol) and sorry for the really cheesy ending. I just needed it after reading Defiled.


End file.
